


Good Thing

by quartetship



Series: A Fairy Tale [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fae & Fairies, Fairy!Marco, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:09:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>["Jean?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, Marco?"</p>
<p>Marco wiggled closer, the edge of his wings brushing Jean's shoulder. "I, well... kissing because of mistletoe - I don't think it's dumb."</p>
<p>"No?"</p>
<p>"Not at all."</p>
<p>Jean shrugged, letting Marco slip both hands into his upturned palms as Marco scooted around to face him properly. "Maybe it's not that dumb."]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas! This piece is another follow-up to the fairy!Marco au, set during the first Christmas that Jean returns to Scotland to visit. (So right in the middle of the 'Seven Scenes' timeline!)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy, and Happy Holidays! :)
> 
> \--

Christmas in Scotland was like something out of a storybook.  
  
The towns and villages that Jean spent his late December in while visiting his aunt were gorgeous, picturesque in their quaint charm and surrounded by the natural beauty of the sprawling land around them. Snow fell in short bursts, never long enough to slow travel, and Jean was thankful; he had no intentions of missing even an hour of time with his aunt. Or Marco.  
  
His aunt Lorraine was overjoyed to have him. On his first afternoon back with her, she returned from the market with too many bags to carry, full to bursting with food, decorations and gifts. It was the first time since she'd settled in Scotland that she would have people to celebrate the holidays with, and knowing how much it meant to her kept Jean from teasing her  _too_  much about the overabundance of  _everything_  she'd stocked her home with.   
  
It wasn't all about  _him,_  of course. Lori did her best to make sure that Marco felt included, and Jean did everything he could to share what a modern Christmas was with Marco. He told him about the things his family did back home, about trees to decorate and cheesy television specials to watch. Marco didn't always understand -  _"why would you decorate a tree, and then throw it away later?"_  - but he was eager to hear, all the same.   
  
They went into town a few times, under the guise of running errands for Jean's aunt. Really, Jean just wanted Marco to see the garlands hanging across the streets, the lights in every window. The exhilarated smile that it pulled out of Marco was well worth the effort. Jean captured it - along with every other moment he could think to - on his phone's camera, saving that glittering grin for a day when he wouldn't be able to enjoy it in person.  
  
It was the most magical holiday season Jean could remember, whether it was because of the beautiful setting or the fact that he was finally with people he had so painfully missed, he couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was a little of both, and a little of his aunt's delicious cooking and the Christmas pastries they brought back from town by the dozen. Or perhaps it was just the experience of sharing what might has well have been a first Christmas, with someone who Jean liked so much, he didn't even mind the constant explaining of things.  _Too_  much.  
  
"But why do you bring trees  _inside_  to decorate them? Couldn't you just..."  
  
Jean heaved a sigh as he tugged the tree upright into the rickety stand his aunt had set up for it. "We just do, Marco. This tree was already cut down, anyway. It's not like we hacked it down ourselves."  
  
 _"Still,"_  Marco pouted, ruffling fingertips gingerly through the branches.   
  
He let Jean continue setting the tree up without further complaint, perhaps plied by the chocolates Lori had handed them each a box of when they'd returned home from securing it. Marco had already eaten half of his box by the time Jean declared the tree ready for decorations. Lori brought them in - all brand new and still in bags and boxes that needed sorting through - and Marco took it upon himself to giddily dig through all of them. When Jean looked up from his own box of candy, Marco was wearing strings of lights and ropes of tinsel and grinning like a child.  
  
"I really like the lights," he laughed. "They're so pretty and warm. They remind me of _fireflies."_  The word rolled sweetly off his tongue, and Jean couldn't be sure if the light in his eyes was a reflection of those wrapped loosely around him or something else entirely. He pulled his phone from his pocket to take pictures, laughing while he did so that maybe Marco wouldn't be able to tell just how much he desperately wanted to remember this moment when there were miles and months between them later. But for Marco, Jean was always pretty transparent; he knew Marco understood his actions for what they were when he stopped looping cords playfully over his arms and wings to give a still, steady smile to Jean to capture.   
  
With Marco tangled in one string of lights, Jean took up another and began working them into the dark branches of their tree. When his hand scraped against something sharp, he peeked into the mass of greenery, and saw what looked like some disgusting creature clinging to the tree's trunk. He pulled his hand away sharply and yelped as if bitten, scaring Marco into spilling his chocolates all over the floor.  
  
"What, Jean? What's wrong?!"  
  
"This tree has some weird  _bush thing_  growing on it!" He skittered away backwards across the floor, leaving Marco to hesitantly approach the tree to investigate. When he did, he bit his lip to keep his soft chuckle from becoming a louder laugh at Jean's expense.   
  
"Jean, that's just a witch's broom mistle."  
  
Jean eyed him cautiously. "A what?!"  
  
 _"Mistletoe,"_  Marco sighed, though he was still smiling. He pulled back the branches of the tree to show that it was indeed just a vining plant wrapped around its trunk. Jean swallowed and nodded, still not quick to approach it.   
  
"Oh. Well. Just looks pretty creepy."  
  
Marco shook his head. "It's dangerous to the tree, but not to us. Here, I'll take care of it." Letting the lighted cords fall away, he wriggled his fingers into the plant, amongst its twisted vines and breathed calmly, letting it slither as if alive, off of the trunk and up his arm. When he'd completely cleared it from the tree, he held his arm out and let it drop into a neat, coiled pile of twigs and leaves on the floor in front of him. It took Jean only a moment to get past the surrealism of what he'd just seen - this was  _Marco,_  after all - and finally make his way back over to where Marco sat. Sometime during Marco's little magic trick, Lori had reentered the room, and she stood in the archway of the living room, watching the two of them with a fond expression.  
  
"You know what mistletoe is for at Christmastime, dontcha Marco?" She grinned.  
  
Marco looked back at her, confused. "No. Should I?" Lori just smiled wider, biting her lip, silent. Marco turned to Jean, eyes widened as he waited for an explanation. Jean groaned quietly and glared half-heartedly at his aunt.   
  
"It's..." He struggled to find the right way to explain it, so that Marco would understand. His face burned under the spotlight his aunt had thrown him under. "People hang it up in their houses at Christmas, and... whenever two people are standing under it together, they're supposed to kiss. For some reason." Acutely aware of the heat from the nearby fireplace on his already warm skin, Jean shifted in place, looking out the window at the snow beginning to fall. "I dunno, it's dumb."  
  
Marco shook his head. "But I don't--"  
  
Lori interrupted with a cough, clearing her throat as she motioned to the front door of the cottage.  
  
"I just remembered - I bought you boys something for this weekend while I was in town this afternoon, but I think I left it over at the lodge." She had her keys in her hand before either of them had time to reply. "I'm gonna go grab it before the weather gets too bad. Be back shortly, okay?" With that she was gone, the door sliding closed and locking behind her. Jean stared at it for a few quiet moments before he felt the gentle touch of Marco's hand to his.  
  
"Jean?"  
  
"Yeah, Marco?"  
  
Marco wiggled closer, the edge of his wings brushing Jean's shoulder. "I, well... kissing because of mistletoe -  _I_  don't think it's dumb."  
  
"No?"  
  
"Not at all."  
  
Jean shrugged, letting Marco slip both hands into his upturned palms as Marco scooted around to face him properly. "Maybe it's not  _that_  dumb."  
  
Marco grinned. Still draped in a string of twinkling lights, and skin bathed in the warm glow of firelight, he was an absolutely beautiful sight, and Jean considered pulling out his phone camera again. But some moments are to be lived, rather than recorded, and no technology could properly capture the softness of Marco's skin, the lingering smell of chocolate and fresh pine there that called out to be breathed in, up close and in real time. Jean leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, and smiled when he heard the rustling of the mistletoe vines, one of them curling around Marco's fingers. Marco held it above their heads and grinned sheepishly, eyes absolutely sparkling as he looked back at Jean, and Jean was caught - he pulled Marco forward by the fingers of his other hand and brushed their lips together, softly. Marco sighed into the kiss, smiling against Jean's lips as he let his head fall to the side, their mouths sliding together perfectly. Kissing Marco always left Jean breathless - utterly aware of how human he was in comparison  - but this was different. This was slow, sure; it was a celebration and a promise. It was  _love,_  even if it wasn't spoken aloud. Jean pulled Marco into his lap, murmuring happily when the lights looped over his own shoulders as Marco draped arms around him and kissed him again, wings fluttering softly, happily behind him.  
  
Jean couldn't be sure exactly how long they sat that way, legs tangled like the cords on both of their arms. But it was long enough that when the cottage door swung open again, Marco was still very much in his lap, and his hands were too caught in the strings of lights to move away from Marco's hips. They swallowed hard in unison, staring back at Jean's aunt, and he could actually feel himself go pale. But Lori didn't so much as drop her wide smile; instead she laughed at their startled faces, closed the door against the frigid wind behind her, and breezed past them.  
  
"Here you go, boys!" She pulled what looked like two thick blankets from the bottom of a shopping bag and shook them out one at a time. Only once they were unfolded did it become apparent that they were in fact sweaters. The tackiest, Christmas themed sweaters Jean had ever seen, and in matching print, to boot. She beamed. He swallowed, trying to think of an appropriate - and  _tactful_  - response, but came up short.   
  
"Um.  _Thanks."_  
  
She nodded, placing one in his lap, and one in Marco's, which Marco immediately began fiddling with to pull over his head, shuffling the cords from his shoulders to slide it on. "I hope they fit! I got Marco's a little big, since, y'know - they don't come with openings for wings."  
  
"Thank you!" Marco squeaked, obviously genuinely excited. He looked down at the gaudy design on the front of the sweater and grinned, wrapping arms over himself and hugging the oversized knit monstrosity against him.  
  
Lori nodded again. "I'm gonna go put some water on to boil for a batch of cocoa. Snow's really picking up outside, and these cottages just don't do so well keeping the cold out."  
  
"Good thing we have these sweaters, then," Marco smiled, looking back at Jean. Jean stared at him for a moment, waiting for the sarcasm, but there wasn't any. Only a real, honest smile, and in that moment, Jean couldn't bring himself not to return it.   
  
"Yeah," he said, climbing up onto the couch behind them and pulling Marco up after him.  _"Good thing."_  
  
They sat there together the rest of the evening - no longer wary of Lori's presence - watching the fire dance and the snow fall outside, wrapped in ridiculously warm sweaters and each other's arms. Eventually, Marco fell asleep, his head carefully dropped onto Jean's chest. Jean breathed in the smell of his soft hair and kissed the top of his head, smiling when Marco wriggled closer against him. He could think of nothing more that he could ever want for Christmas than what he had, right then.


End file.
